Soup!

In Romania, my grandmother serves her chicken soup (affectionately called “kitchen soup,” a sweet pronunciation mistake) scalding hot, with a kiss on the forehead and cooed murmurs to eat up. Her hands, delicately manicured, seem not to feel the heat. After the long, dry, dreary plane ride to Bucharest, Mamaie’s kitchen soup is divine, golden ambrosia. We drink it around the crowded table, bellies slowly warming. This soup is a homecoming. I am enveloped not merely in flavours but in a familiar language, in the arms of familiar, long-missed loved ones, and in the apartment of a familiar city. In many ways, Mamaie’s kitchen soup sums up the divine qualities of the dish; its broth is a balm for both body and soul. 

As you will have guessed by now, I love soup. I think all university students could do with eating a bit more soup; not only is making it economical, but also an essential culinary skill. Soup is a wonderful product of ingredients that, in isolation, appear useless. Soup is things thrown together — leftover chicken bones, whatever vegetables lie lonely in the refrigerator, spices from the back of cabinets and almost empty bags of rice. Ingredients typically pushed to the side come together in a dish that warms you right down to the marrow. It feels old, essential, and endlessly gratifying — served with a loaf of hearty bread and a bit of butter, what more could one desire? Maybe something as small, yet infinitely kind, as a friend to share it with. 

I believe soup should be cooked in company. One must have someone close by to ask, “Does it need more salt?” and they’ll take your offered spoon, try your communal concoction — a kind of witch’s potion, as it were — smile and stir and say it tastes wonderful. And then, as one’s grandmother does, you’ll ladle it out into hand-cupped bowls. I think the satisfaction one receives from not merely making but sharing soup is unparalleled. It says, as bowls pass between hands, “I care about you,” or “feel better,” or “stay warm.” Soup can feed a family, friends, flatmates; it can be stored frozen, to be reheated when one desires the specific sweetness of October squash. 

Due to its diversity of components, soup is a food of many forms. There seems to be a category of soups for every season, but my favourites must be those of the colder months. Butternut squash, lentil, and of course the classic chicken noodle; as a Romanian (we abhor the cold, and hold both scarves and soup in reverence), all must be served steaming, so hot the bowl will pinch your fingertips and the broth will nip your tongue. Now, I believe Mamaie’s chicken soup to be the most effective medicine — science, it seems, agrees. The components of this classic dish brim with health benefits; chicken, for one, is rich in protein and other essential nutrients, which dissolve into the broth when cooking.

Moreover, the NIH reports that chicken soup inhibits the migration of neutrophils, a kind of white blood cell that fights infection. This lessens inflammation, which in turn reduces respiratory cold symptoms. And that nipping heat mends sinuses, thinning and clearing stubborn mucus. 

In sum, eat your soup! It will ward off winter illness, warm your soul with the gift of cooking for others, and fill your flat’s kitchen with friends and the aroma of mingling spices. I’ll now gift you possibly the most invaluable holiday present: the family recipe for Mamaie’s kitchen soup. May it serve you well. Poftă bună!

Mamaie’s “Kitchen Soup” 

Ingredients: 

• One whole chicken (extra wings and organs optional)

• A couple carrots 

• An onion

• Celery (leaves attached)

• Celery root (peeled, in chunks)

• One whole tomato 

• A few stems of parsley 

• Whole peppercorns

• Salt 

Instructions:

1. Start with one whole (or in pieces but with bones) good chicken. A country chicken is nice (note: make sure you take out the little bag of organs that often comes in supermarket chickens!). Mamaie boils the heart and other organs along with the soup. Add a pack of wings for more flavour/bone.

2. Put the chicken in a big pot and cover with water.  Bring to a boil and skim off all the brown scummy stuff and foam that rises to the top (important!). 

3. Reduce heat to simmer - should not be boiling. Put in some root vegetables: a couple thick carrots, an onion (with skin, cut in half, gives nice colour), celery with leaves attached, peeled celery root chunks, a whole tomato with skin on (this is one of Mamaie’s secret ingredients, just don’t let it break when you lift it out later), some stems of parsley, some whole peppercorns, and a couple pinches of salt (don’t overdo, you’ll salt the soup properly later).

4. Let this simmer partially covered. Should not be boiling, just lightly bubbling up. Simmer for a few hours, until the chicken meat is falling off bones (note: if you want, you can take out the breasts earlier, once done, save for another purpose and keep cooking the soup).

5. Lift out and discard the tomato, herbs, celery stalks, and onion. Save the carrots and celery root to put back in the soup later.

6. Lift out the chicken and parts into a bowl. Once cool, pick the meat off the bones into soup-size pieces and save (can save the breasts and chunks of thigh meat for other dishes, and use all the little “leftover” pieces for putting back in the soup). Sprinkle the soup-bound pieces with some salt.

7. Strain the broth into a bowl (not into the sink!) through a fine mesh sieve lined with cheesecloth. Also, strain into the broth any liquid left from the bowl of chicken parts. Don’t skim off much of the fat - this gives flavour.

8. Assemble the soup: combine enough of the broth and chicken pieces to make a good soup (you can freeze a container of broth for another day if there’s extra).  Add back in the carrot chunks and pieces of celery root, and heat.  Salt to taste (it may need quite a bit). 

9. Separately, boil salted water and make the “taitei.”  The closest equivalent here is those little birds’ nests of coiled dry thin pasta. 

1. Put some of the pasta in each bowl and ladle soup over, making sure people get a good amount of pieces and veggies they like. Sprinkle generously with fresh chopped parsley, and finish off with a few grinds of fresh pepper.

Image from Wikimedia Commons